Lloyd Corricelli - Ronan Marino 01 - Two Redheads & a Dead Blonde (9 page)

Hardy stood up a little straighter, puffing out his chest a bit more. Kind words from a superior officer have a way of doing that, especially to the young and impressionable.

“Thanks, Chief.”

I slipped out the door and didn’t look back.

“You have no intention of ever returning, do you?” Marc asked.

“Of course not.”

We got into his town car, a late model Crown Victoria, and I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. Nausea started to creep in.

“You think this had anything to do with Karen’s death?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Marc shrugged. “What were you doing in her apartment anyway?”

“I was looking for drugs.”

“I thought you were going to leave the investigating to us professionals?”

“I am.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me. Did you find anything interesting?”

“She had a nice collection of nude photos that I didn’t know about.”

“Of her? Hardcore?”

“No, more like the stuff you’d see in Playboy.”

“Angelina doesn’t let me read Playboy,” he said in a wispy little boy voice.

It must be hell being married to a woman who stored your balls in a jar under lock and key, though Marc rarely complained. He loved his wife and in the big picture of life, that’s all that really matters. I should be so lucky.

“You should have called me to go with you. Then you might not have got jumped.”

“And you would have gotten to see the pictures.”

“I guess.”

Marc had met Karen a couple of times, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t fantasize about her. Like many men, he married a blonde who later turned into a brunette.

“Let’s head back over there,” I said.

“No. We need to get you seen at the hospital first.”

“That can wait. I found a business card in her portfolio with just a 1-800 number. I need it to find out what it is.”

“Why does it matter? It’s probably the modeling agency she did the pictures for.”

“It would have had the agency’s name on the card, don’t you think?”

He just shrugged. Having worked in sleepy Westford his entire career, Marc hadn’t seen very much in the way of serious crime. I had once used similar cards to snare military members stealing government property, except mine weren’t printed on pink linen. We set up a bogus military surplus company and left cards around town or went into clubs and handed them to GIs. Some would call the phone number offering stolen goods and we’d set up a meeting, eventually popping them when they delivered.

It was a brilliant operation, and we bought everything from food to uniforms to various tools and equipment. One stupid bastard even sold us an F-16 engine, which made the national news. To this day, I’ve never figured out what that kid thought we were going to do with an engine from a fighter plane.

Marc’s idea of a big bust was nabbing a couple of kids stealing out the back of a florist shop.

“I also found a bank statement for thirty-two grand.”

“So.”

“So? Do most college students usually have that kind of money?”

“Maybe she earned it modeling. Did you consider that?”

“Yeah, but I doubt she could have made that much money short of posing for a major men’s magazine; especially without me knowing about it.”

“How about a website? I read some women are making tons of dough stripping on camera.”

“That’s possible.”

“Think about it, how else could she have gotten it?”

That second thought finally popped into my head, the one I’d never gotten to at the apartment. It would certainly explain the money, but I couldn’t track it down unless I had the card. I didn’t even want to consider it, but like the drugs, it was something I’d have a hard time overlooking.

Marc pulled into the parking lot of All Saints Hospital and found a slot near the front door.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“We really should go over to her apartment first.”

“And we will, once you get seen by a doctor. Come on, Ronan. Don’t make me embarrass you.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He looked at me like I was his child and pointed to the door. When Marc makes up his mind, there’s no changing it, and as bad as I felt, he was right. I had no strength to argue, and anything I wanted in her apartment was probably long gone. If my suspicions were correct, Red and Goatee had made sure of that.

****

I waited in an exam room for the doctor to come in and read my x-rays. Marc had gone up to the cafeteria to get something to eat, leaving me to fend for myself. God forbid he neglected his ever-growing stomach.

I’ve always hated hospitals. I spent far too much time in them during my years in the military, often in the middle of the night working a case. Every time I set foot in one, the antiseptic smell brings back memories I’d like to forget.

This hospital went to the top of my most hated list soon after we arrived. I just wanted to see a doctor and be on my way. All they wanted was to know how I planned to pay for my treatment. I handed the overweight Puerto Rican woman at in-processing my American Express Platinum card, and she excitedly called over a coworker. They stared at it in admiration, jabbering in Spanish. I guess they don’t see many of those in Lowell. Marc got pissed, flashed his badge and started yelling to speed things along. The next thing I knew, I was having my ribs x-rayed. Everything after that was pretty much a blur.

The curtain whipped open and a female doctor entered, my x-rays in her hand. She carried herself with an aura of elegance and an energy that lit up the room, making the coldness of the sterile stainless steel space fade away. I was immediately reminded of a woman I’d once seen on a Greek travel brochure; big brown eyes, flawless olive skin and full red lips. Her long, curly jet-black hair was pulled up in a ponytail off her white lab coat. She was just a few inches shorter than me, making her about five-foot-seven.

“Mr. Marino, I’m Dr. Sadolovaki. The good news is your ribs aren’t broken, only bruised.” Her tone was very cold and professional; a stark contrast to her physical features.

I just gazed at her, slowly nodding my head. I wanted to speak but between fatigue and getting whacked on the skull, I had become the human equivalent of a bobblehead doll. I wiped my mouth to make sure I wasn’t drooling.

“Why don’t you have a seat on the exam table?” She helped me up, and I had a hard time finding the edge. That was not a good sign.

“Let’s take a look at you.”

I slipped off the Johnny they’d given me in X-ray and just stared at her. She made eye contact, but then quickly looked away.

“You keep yourself in pretty good shape,” she said. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-five going on fifty-two.”

She nodded and listened to my chest. The steel from the stethoscope was absolutely frigid, contrasting the warmth of her hands. Standing that close, I could smell her perfume. It was a very mild scent but pleasant.

“Your lungs are clear,” she said without a hint of emotion.

I decided my doctor had to be a Vulcan. Other than a lack of pointy ears, she appeared to have all the other traits.

“Do you smoke?” she asked.

“No, I don’t.”

“Good. It’s a terrible habit.”

She took a penlight out of her pocket and shined it in my eyes. “Follow the beam.” I tried, but it was harder than it sounded. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I must have looked like a zombie.

“It looks like you have a minor concussion. Have you ever had one before?”

“No, not that I can remember.”

“Was that a joke?”

“No, why?”

“Lift your head up.” She looked at the cut under my eye. “Keep applying ice on that until the swelling subsides. May I ask what happened to you?”

“I had an elephant training mishap.”

“I wasn’t aware that the circus was in town.”

“We’re wintering here in Lowell.”

“Shouldn’t you be wintering in Florida?”

“That’s what most people think, but the elephants really like the snow. You should see the snowmen we build.”

She smiled. It was big and full of kindness. The ice in her voice melted, and her tone suddenly became warm and throaty.

“Elephants, I never would have guessed. I thought maybe you got beat up.”

“By elephants?”

“I’ll give you something for your head and ribs. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you for the next twenty-four hours?” She wrote the prescription from a pad she kept in her lab coat.

“Maybe my brother or father.”

“Good, they’ll need to wake you every hour. It’s just a standard precaution with concussion victims. You’ll need to take it easy for a while and give your ribs a chance to heal.”

I nodded my understanding. She finished writing the script and handed it to me. Either her handwriting was terrible or my vision was blurry, because I couldn’t read it. I guessed that it was a combination of the two.

“If the headaches persist, you might want to see your personal physician or the circus sawbones.”

“He’s in Florida. Doesn’t like the snow at all.”

“You’ll have to find another doctor then.”

“Do you have an office here in town?”

She smirked and tossed her hair. “I’m in the book. Try to keep those elephants under control, will you? The last thing this city needs is another rampage.”

“I didn’t catch your first name.”

“I didn’t give it to you.”

I’m not sure why I flirted with her. My girlfriend had just been killed and here I was making stupid jokes with a beautiful doctor. I felt a little guilty but there was something about Dr. Sadolovaki that I was immediately drawn to.

****

I checked out of the emergency room and Marc and I headed over to Karen’s apartment.

“So you think those pictures will still be there?” he asked, ever hopeful.

“I doubt it.”

“Damn.”

When we got there, the door was ajar.

“You armed?” I asked.

“No, why?”

“Jesus Christ, you call yourself a cop?”

I hoped he never ran into a situation where he needed to be carrying. It boggled my mind that there were still cops out there who didn’t feel the need to wear a gun off duty in this day and age of terrorism.

“Stay behind me,” he said.

I nodded. Normally I would have taken the lead, but in my current condition I wasn’t sure how effective I’d be in a fight. In fact, I was pretty sure that I couldn’t battle my way out of a wet paper bag right now.

He slowly opened the door, and we crept inside. The apartment was trashed, the way I had envisioned it should have been the first time I was there. The furniture was turned over, and Karen’s belongings were thrown about.

Morley and Garcia came walking out from the bedroom.

“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” Morley asked, his breath as putrid as ever. Tonight it smelled like a combination of bad cheese, rotten garbage and fish.

Marc looked at me to answer.

“Looking for clues, I guess,” I said.

“You guess? Since when were you investigating this?” Garcia asked.

“Since two guys jumped me,” I said.

“I was wondering about that,” Morley chuckled. “Your smart mouth finally caught up to you.”

“Something like that. You guys know my brother Marc?”

“Seen his picture in the paper,” Garcia said.

He shook each of their hands, and they nodded. I detected a slight change of attitude from Morley in Marc’s presence.

“Find anything?” I asked.

“Other than this mess, unfortunately not,” Garcia said.

“You guys didn’t do this?” Marc asked.

“No, we found it this way,” Morley said. “Your girlfriend was a lousy housekeeper.”

He was trying to push my buttons. I let it go this time.

“How come you guys waited so long to search?” I asked.

“You think this is the only case we have?” Morley sneered.

“I guess not.” I replied.

Garcia took a closer look at my face. “Man, someone opened a nice mouse on you, buddy.”

I just nodded.

“Where did it happen?” Morley asked.

“Uh.” I was reluctant to tell them but figured they should know.

“Here…or at least it started here.”

“What the fuck were you doing here to begin with?” Morley asked.

“I wanted to see if I could find any drugs. I didn’t.”

“Or maybe you were ditching whatever drugs were here to cover your ass,” Morley said.

“You’re out of line, Detective,” Marc said.

“And you’re out of your jurisdiction, Chief,” Morley replied.